Spellbinding stories of mystic love and soulful hope . . .

 

 

 

 

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winter sunrise 007 march 2014 001 lake junaluska march 2014 004 lake junaluska march 2014 008from the air 002 005072 134 149 151after storm 2014 clearing skies over mountains 001 after storm 2014 clearing skies over mountains 014

sweetie by kat magendieYes, yes; I know lately my posts have been more about my books than usual. It’s something I have shied away from, but when I do that, my readers tell me, how do they know when I have a deal? Or a new book coming out? They have to stumble on it, or Amazon sends them something, or my publishers promote it. And lately, for some reason, Amazon has been focused on giving deals on my books. First The Lightning Charmer was $1.99 (it is still $1.99! I just checked. They keep extending it!), and then Family Graces was $1.99 (not any more), and now my Sweetie novel is on their Amazon Monthly 100 deals for, guess what? Yeah, $1.99. Must be the magical number. It means incredible savings for my regular readers, yes, but what it also means is that new readers find author’s books when Amazon does these deals. So, while I am not  making a lot of money, I am gaining readers: and that, my friends, is mighty wonderful. Few authors go into this for the money, and if they do, they soon realize that this better not be the reason! *grin*

Sweetie has been one of the most talked about of all my novels. I’ve received more mail on this book than any other. Though I will not go look, I have been told people “argued” on Amazon about the ending: many loved it and some didn’t. Despite any of those who may have not liked the ending, it has a 4.4 star rating, so I am guessing most loved the ending and the book *yay!* I took a chance with that ending–but, it was the only one that worked, the only one that was true, that it could ever be.

Some of the questions I receive on Sweetie are: “Are Sweetie and Melissa lovers?” This always surprised me, for the book isn’t about sex or sexual love–it’s about friendship and loyalty, and family in all its forms. I cannot place Sweetie and Melissa as lovers or not as lovers–it is for the readers to decide who they are and who they became after I wrote the last words. “Did Melissa ‘find’ Sweetie at the end?” I never answer this directly, for it would take away the magic. But, okay, what do I really think? Yes. I think Yes. I believe. Yes. I’m also asked: “Did you experience something like what happened in that weird revival tent? It was so vivid and real!” *laughing* No! I made it up! And thank you to those who asked that and said it was so vivid and real! And, “Sweetie can’t feel physical pain? What’s up with that?” This is a real condition, but I didn’t want to make the story “just about” that or the center of that by focusing too much on it or, again, taking away the “supernatural quality” of Sweetie: it’s hovering there; it is a part of who Sweetie is; it is why the town is afraid of her (that and her strange mother), a town that believes in superstition and magic and the supernatural.

Some blurby stuff on Sweetie:

1743500_553542498076585_1943216434_nSWEETIE, a crossover novel for adults and older teens. Kat Magendie writes about the dark bends in the hollers of the soul, most usually the soul of high coves of Appalachia, coal country, West Virginia, or North Carolina, but it could be the soul of any of us on this whirling ball of deep spirits and spit . . . Sweetie is the haunted child of poverty and superstition in her mountain town. Tough for a reason, wild for good purpose, and doomed like her family, if the righteous decide it’s time to clear out the hoodoo troublemakers. Melissa is the opposite, good girl, good family, except for the core of courage that turns out to be a match for Sweetie’s. Odd best friends. And maybe doomed.”

“A little mountain town in the 1960s, a reclusive girl who feels no pain, an unlikely friendship. Melissa will come to understand that just because Sweetie feels no physical pain, does not mean she cannot be hurt  . . . 

Lyrical and poignant gothic southern storytelling. Sweetie is a wild girl, rough, almost feral, yet brave and endlessly honest. When Melissa, a shy, stuttering town girl, befriends Sweetie, the two enrich each other’s lonely lives. But there are some in the Appalachian community who regard Sweetie and her peculiar heritage as sinister…

As always, I appreciate your support. This thing I do is nothing without my readers. You just can’t imagine (unless you too are a novelist) how it feels to know people are reading your work! And if they love it, well, this is the greatest feeling of all. I have so much gratitude. 

002I know this writer who has penned a few novels and short stories – all of them considered “literary works” with the exception of one that could pass for a bit of fantasy and romance. She sits in her space and tippity taps away — the words come easy to her, though plots do not. Her stories make people cry and think and wonder and wander. She has a pretty nice following of readers who love her work.

But anyone “in the business” knows that “Literary-type” writers have a harder time finding a huge audience. And while writers who pen these kinds of works love their readers and audience, there comes a time when the rubber has to meet the road and bills must be paid. Perhaps something changed in the writer’s life–perhaps two incomes become one, or something catastrophic happens, or the moon swallows the sun and all hell breaks loose–doesn’t matter; there comes a time where if the writer didn’t worry so much about how much money her work made, before, she or he may at some point certainly have to worry about it sooner or later.

084There are genres of writing out there that seem to entice readers to them: romance, erotica, erotic-romance. Hmmmm, thinks the writer–that erotic stuff sounds “easier” to write than romance–for romance requires Plot and Rules, whereas it seems erotica/erotic romance is all over the place–kind of experimental. How darist the literary writer do such a thing? Could she? Would she? Should she? What would her readers think? Her family? Her friends? Her MOM!

And one day, the writer sat down in her space and spewed out new kinds of words – words that normally she’d laugh at or cringe a little at or blush at: C words and P words and T words and A words. And the sexual explicitness of her words made her go “Well, damn . . . .” But on she wrote, inserting a little plot, a little narrative, in between all that sex: beasty men and girl on girl and slipping through the back door and bodily emissions flying. This writer just tipped the iceberg of what is out there in erotica writing, for in doing some research, she found some pretty disgusting and way more explicitly disturbing works, but, for the literary writer of beautiful books, this was completely new and completely explicit.

What goes on behind the eyes of a woman?

What goes on behind the eyes of a woman?

And it excited her, too. Even while making her want to hide her identity. And will I reveal her identity? That’s for you to find out and figure out, if you haven’t already. For keeping her identity in the shadows allows her to explore that darker deeper side of sexuality. It makes her feel she’s gone rogue. It feels scary and delicious all at the same time. The words she had a hard time saying, the explicit situations that made her laugh, or blush a little, suddenly come (so to speak) easier and easier.

One down, she says, and how many more to go?

1655921_1378209372428629_1822370916_n Meet Tasha Wolfe.  A literary writer’s Rogue Alter-Ego. She won’t reveal her identity straight out. For she likes to remain in the shadows, so she can write with explicit glee, or embarrassed glee, or something in between. And she’ll never tell her mother. And certain friends. And certain colleagues. And she’ll think, “This is for the bills. This is so I can keep writing the literary stuff. This is so I don’t lose my house.” But a darker baser side of her thinks, “This is exciting and exhilarating. This is unexpected . . . .”

SEDUCTION COVE CVR6-page-0 (1)She started small, with a little novella-ette – something to be read quickly. Something that can be written quickly. Something that is quick. Seduction CoveIn a hidden cove in a secret magic forest, a seductive sorceress weaves blood and fantasy into tantric orgasmic sex. Sorceress Serena seduces sex-starved women to her magical cove, where with a vial of their blood, and knowledge of their deepest fantasies, she creates for them their perfect lover – for a price. But when Serena’s darker thoughts take over, she chooses a client who asks for part man, part beast. Serena’s ancestors howl against it, but she seeks to punish a soul in her soul garden – for his arrogance, he will become her experiment for this lusty client. Things don’t go quite as Serena wants them to, and she then must face her own desires.

And this writer nods her head at Tasha, for really, everyone does just what they want and need to do and that’s how it should be. Right? Right. And sex sells. Sex really really sells. And it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s more than the money . . . it’s something wilder and darker and exciting . . . .

Sometimes writers go rogue. Sometimes you never even know when they do this – the writers who pen lovely beautiful books, and in the dark of night pen something so very much different. Some do it proudly and some do it stealthy and some do it somewhere in between.

 

 

Shoveling it (writing it)

snow storm 2014 cove walk and shovel 004

*UPDATE! : Can anyone tell me “what’s wrong with this picture” here to the left? *laughing* — Let’s make that around 10 inches on my driveway. *dumbass me* Yeah, the stick is upside down and the big numbers are not inches. Teeheehee.* There has to be a metaphor/analogy for the writing in this :D

Gawd. What a winter it has been. Ice, snow, sub-zero temps — my cove once dove to minus 8.5 degrees. This latest dumped fourteen inches on top of the driveway I’d just cleared 3 inches from. Welp, good, cause at least I didn’t have to shovel 17 inches. Huhn. Right? Riiight. And, as I wrote on Facebook (where I’ve been uploading photos of the snow and the beauty of Western North Carolina), how does a 111 pound 5’2″ woman clear 14 inches of snow from her longish driveway in less than 2 hours? One GD shovel at a time. I put my head down and did the job. I didn’t whine. I didn’t complain–no really, I did not. For what good would that have done? Just made me irritated and negative about it. I shoveled and I didn’t think about how much was left before me. I shoveled and I didn’t stop except to drink some water and stretch out the kinks. I shoveled and I didn’t think about my worries or my troubles or what lay ahead or what I would do next or if it were boring or if I’d rather be doing something else–nope, I kept my mind to he task. I shoveled and shoveled and shoveled some more. Until, at last, I had a pathway for my Boopmobile to clear out of so I can get out snow storm 2014 cove walk and shovel 028this weekend, and then, just to be sure, I shoveled a bit more–a sort of SO THERE! kind of thing.

snow storm 2014 cove walk and shovel 026I thought, at the end: Okay, Mother/Father/Grandm/f Nature, you bitch – I’m a bigger bitch. I’m a badass bitch. I’m a toughass kickass mountain woman, stubborn, too much pride at times, determined. I had a goal. I completed it. My arms were shaking afterward. My back and shoulders protested. But those things actually felt good because they felt like work; they felt like progress; they felt like I was in the real world doing real things; they felt like, actually, that Mother;/Father/Grandm/f Nature and I were at a truce. Oh, I know Nature can dish out some more if it wants to, and it could take me to my knees. It has done that to many of us–storms, and floods, and snows, and ices, and tornadoes, and hurricanes–and what do we do? We “shovel” out from under it one “shovel” at a time until we are done with the job.

Just Do It

Just Do It

Often people ask me: how did you write so much in so little time? What is your writing day like? How do you keep writing? I am pretty prolific. I have had published five novels and a novella, and published myself through Amazon some short stories, and I’m writing under two different pen names — one is C.W. Pomp, and the other is a secret. And you may be guessing already what I’m going to say after reading the above: I write one word at a time. I put my head down and get the job done. When I am working, snow storm 2014 cove walk and shovel 028I don’t think ahead or how much I have done or how much more I have left to do. I don’t worry about the future when I am working. I am a badass toughass stubborn determined novelist/writer bitch. When I am done, I may be shaking a little; I may let those worries creep in; I may falter because I don’t know how it’s all going to work out or if people will love my work; I could be taken to my knees by disappointment (and I have been!). But, then . . . I sit down and do it all over again, just as if it snows again, I will pick up that shovel and dig myself out from under what is dished out to me.

1461250_496657083765127_1387255473_nNow, I do not want to hit you good people over the head with this – my pride and my sense of “not bugging people” often have gotten in the way of me talking about my books, but, if I want to keep doing what I love, then I have to promote my books at least sometimes, and the sometimes is usually when I have news or deals. I thought The Lightning Charmer would be off its $1.99 sale, but it’s still hanging on – shhh! maybe they forgot to take it off! ha! So, if you haven’t tried my work, now is the time, or if you have and liked my other books, then give T.L.C. a try. I will love you for it – well, hell, I already love you all :D .

three set_edited-best_edited-1As well, my little short stories are on Amazon. I don’t talk about them much because they’re just little story snacks – things you can read quickly. Simple little things. I adore the artwork on the cover.

Okay, that’s enough of the car salesman pitch *haw!*

MUWAH! y’all. Pick up that shovel (sit down and write) . . . get busy.

156The farthest thing from a young woman’s mind is that time far off into the future when she will be considered “Middle Aged And Menopausal.” Who has time to think about that when your toddler is crying and your eight-year-old just threw up all the pizza, cake, and, I’m not kidding—sushi (sushi?)—he had at a birthday party where the parents spent more to please Bobby or Suzy than what you spend on two-weeks of groceries? Or your boss has asked you to work late and on the weekend—again. Or you’ve over-extended your obligations to (fill in obligation blank here)—again.

Listen: how you treat yourself and how you ask to be treated by those around you will forever affect the person you will become. Who are you?—I mean, the real you, the Woman You, the one you must face in the mirror from now until, well, until you can no longer look into a mirror, or perhaps not care to (look anyway, for you are beautiful!)? For one day in your future you will gaze at yourself (even if through others eyes) and see the woman you have become from the experiences you have now. As your big sister, I want to tell you to care for yourself. To think in terms of gratitude, and health, and well-being—one decision at a time—in what you eat, drink, behave, grow, and how you perceive the world and react to it (or how you expect it to react to you).

Hair Dryer Antics Update & Oregon here I come. . .Consider the benefits you will receive right away, yes, but also think about two years from now, five, ten, twenty—your body and mind will become healthier and stronger so that you will have more energy for your busy life, and further, when you reach My Age, you will have fared better with such a healthy physical and mental base. You will be well-prepared for the Next Stage, even if that next stage is “simply” to be as good a grandmother as you are a mother. Your future you will thank you. Trust your big sister—she knows.

 

Do love what you do? Do you love yourself?

Do love what you do? Do you love yourself?

Finally, when is the last time you patted yourself on the back for a life well-done? Have you been perfect? I bet not. Has every day been a gloriously sunshine-filled day of joy and happiness? Probably not. Have you lost your temper, been in a foul mood, screamed at your kids/husband/co-worker/the person in line at the grocery who has fifteen items instead of ten in the ten-item line? Maybe. But if you did not do these things on occasion, I’d wonder what you were trying to prove. We’re all human, and we all need to give ourselves a little break now and then to consider just how hard it is to Be Humanly Human. You have permission to love yourself, to have gratitude for your days, to love yourself enough to care what happens to you now and then later and for the rest of your life.

 

 

The Lightning Charmer cover1461250_496657083765127_1387255473_n*note: My friends – The Lightning Charmer $1.99 sale has been extended for a couple more days on Amazon Kindle. It’s been steadily moving up the charts – all because of all of you! Thank you! I am grateful for every single sale. Y’all are awesome! And if you haven’t yet checked out Lightning Charmer, I hope you will.*

Belle-BellBlogHeader

 

 

 

Living the Dreamy Dreamland of a (cray-cray) Writer

Oh, the joys of being a writer! Why, we see the world in ways unlike mere mortals. Yeah. We do. Of course we do. We walk about with our heads in the clouds, or huddle inside our little spaces with far away dreamy dreamland eyes that rarely blink. I think I once didn’t blink for a week—no! Really! When one of my eyeballs fell out, I thought, “Dang, woman! For gawd’s sake blink!” So I did, and believe you me, I make sure I blink every once and a while. It’s much better that way; take it from me, the voice of experience.

I’m more the reclusive kind of writer. There’s only rumor that I really actually do exist at all. No! Really! There’s no one actually to prove it—okay, there are some who have seen me, waiflike and ethereal, meandering in an otherworldly way with clouds hovering over my wittle head. I’m so incredibly cute!—um, in very very weirdly dangerous to myself way—but I promise I am absolutely not dangerous to others. No sirree. I don’t even see others most of the time to be of any danger to them. Yeah. I just think of really strange things because my characters are doing all this cool stuff and I want to do it along with them. I do! I want to have all that excitement, and mysterious happenings, and!, all that good hot sex. Woooowheee. FOR THE REST OF THE POST, CLICK HERE.

later y’all! ‘preciate your support! and the support of the BB blog!

The Lightning Charmer coverYou all know I always like to pass on savings to readers, so, here you go: The Lightning Charmer will be $1.99 tomorrow, Saturday the 8th, and Sunday the 9th.

My publishers are doing this promo, and it won’t be this price again for a long time (if ever) so now is the time to grab T.L.C. and ride the lightning with Laura and Ayron.

Blurby stuff:

A haunted man shadows the Smoky Mountain forest. A lonely woman returns to what she left behind. A legacy unfulfilled calls out to them both. .

The sky darkens, the lightning seeks . . .  

The Lightning Charmer is full of whimsy, enchantment, ancient secrets, and dark earthy seduction.  Magendie taps into those primal secret places we all harbor, with a powerful story of learning where one fits in a world that may not fit us.  Braided with color, humor, and loyalty to family, this is storytelling at its best!  Sharla Lovelace, Bestselling and Award Winning author of THE REASON IS YOU

The spell was cast when they were children. That bond cannot be broken. In the deep hollows and high ridges of the ancient Appalachian mountains, a legacy of stunning magic will change their lives forever.

1461250_496657083765127_1387255473_nLaura is caught between the modern and the mystical, struggling to lead a normal life in New York despite a powerful psychic connection to her childhood home in North Carolina—and to the mysterious stranger who calls her name. She’s a synesthete—someone who mentally “sees” and “tastes” splashes of color connected to people, emotions, and things. She’s struggled against the distracting ability all her life; now the effects have grown stronger. She returns home to the mountains, desperate to resolve the obsessive pull of their mysteries.

But life in her mountain community is far from peaceful. An arsonist has the town on edge, and she discovers Ayron, scarred and tormented, an irresistible recluse who rarely leaves the forest. As her childhood memories of him surface, the façade of her ordinary world begins to fade. The knots she’s tied around her heart and her beliefs start unraveling. Ayron has never forgotten her or the meaning of their astonishing bond. If his kind is to survive in modern times, he and Laura must face the consequences of falling in love.

 

Thank you all for your continued support – it means so much to me. *smiling warmly*

1461250_496657083765127_1387255473_nNew year; new time to keep up with my blawg. All y’alles know I don’t like to do any shouting, and barely any talking/writing, about my books; however, it would be stoooopid of me not to share news, and in particular news about new releases (Like the Lightning Charmer) and/or savings on my books. Truth is, folks, I am mostly confused and discombobulated about all this “promo” stuff. I know we’re supposed to do it, and I have resisted. However, reality is, if I don’t talk about my work, my books and stories, some time or another, then perhaps I am not doing all of my job as a novelist. On the other side of it, I hate all the Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah BLAH! that roars across social networking: ME ME ME! BUY MY STUFF! NOTICE ME! — So, I hope I strike a good balance, or will learn to do so. Lawdy be!

Of course, as usual, I also hope to post more here about health/fitness, writing, and general la tee dah bullshit as time hurdles by at the speed of DANG!

family_graces_-_screenFirst: Amazon has put the third book in the Graces Trilogy (the Virginia Kate Sagas) Family Graces on sale in its Big Deal Promo, for $1.99. It’s a great price and won’t last forever so if you have read Tender Graces (and even Secret Graces) and have not yet read the final Virginia Kate book, now’s the time to snatch it up.

three set_edited-best_edited-1Next, I’m slowly uploading shortie stories (stories between 3,000 and 6,000 words) - they’re  like a little story snack that you can enjoy on lunch break or while waiting for an appointment or if you have just a few moments of reading time before bed (or anytime). I have three so far, all on Amazon Kindle. I hope you’ll check them out. They’re simple little stories but they have heart.  I believe you can also find them on an Amazon Author Page.

Do love what you do? Do you love yourself?

The last thing is: Thank you. Thank every last one and all danged ole all of you. I love my readers! And for those of you who have not yet read my work – well, I thank you for coming by here and thinking about it *laugh* :D Y’all are chock full of awesomeness in a big ole huge bucket of Awesome: to infinity. I *heart* you all.

Now — go kick the ass of the day! I’m going to get back to work writing and doing all that angsty author stuff you always read about – yeah, yeah.

Though I still am publishing my novels through Bellebooks/Bell Bridge books, I wanted to branch out and try out self-publishing on Amazon’s KDP program. And, the best way to do that for me is with my short stories.

These are very short stories and the blurby thang on Amazon will be: “On your lunch hour? Sitting in a waiting room? Need just one little story before you go to sleep? Then download one of Kathryn Magendie’s very short stories, between 3,000 and 6,000 words. “

So, the very first short story, at about 4600 words, is up, live, on sale! Girls On Fire – and I’m nervous and excited and pleased with how easy it is to do, and of course that’s the terrifying part of it, as well. Lawd! I hope you will consider short story reading to your kindles *smiling warmly at y’all*

GIRLS ON FIRE cover art for amazon
I splurged a little on the artwork – choosing the same artist for a series of short stories I’ll publish: Katarzyna Bruniewska-gierczak. These watercolors are beautiful and compelling.

The first three stories cover art:

three set_edited-best_edited-1

family_graces_-_screenIn other news, on Friday the 17th, my novel Family Graces will be on the Amazon Big Deal promo for $1.99 – you all know how much I appreciate all your support! I’ll be back to provide a link to it then. Exciting!

imagesOn an episode of Super Fun Night, (and Rebel Wilson is adorable in this–funny and endearing) the Marika character stands in line for hours just to see the woman who played a “superhero” character on television. Marika wants to tell the woman how much her work means to her, how she admires her—she’s even dressed like the “superhero” character. However, when Marika steps up to have her memento signed, the woman is rude to her. Later, Marika sees her alone and tries again to tell her what her work meant—this time, the “superhero” woman is even ruder, and Marika, disillusioned, goes home and packs away all those mementos. The woman Marika thought she would meet was not the kickass superhero, but instead a bitter shitass of an asshole.

And I, too, was that bitter shitass of an asshole. Yeah. Me. Sweet lil ole kickass Kat.

zoo-signOnly a few months after I’d spent weeks by my father’s side, and then still had to bear his (unexpected) death, I traveled to a conference. I was exhausted, still grieving, but thought the time away would be therapeutic—especially since I’d see my good friends there. Most of the eight hour drive was easy enough, until the last hour when, with growing horror, I realized I had a UTI heading my way—folks who have never had one, well you won’t understand how the very thought of this happening at home is bad enough, but on the road? Oh fuck.

By time I arrive where we are to stay, I’m frantic, calling my doctor, calling the pharmacy at home.  I finally find the “emergency” kit with a few days worth of antibiotics inside and gobble two down, hoping that’ll get me started, knowing, too, those antibiotics are going to make me ill–didn’t care–I know the chills and pain will soon start and am hoping to head them off. When I pull into where we are to stay—a group of little “bungalows—“ my phone rings. My friend: the “bungalows” are horrible. Nasty. In the midst of renovations so weird that nothing makes a lick of sense. We’d have to find someplace else to stay. During a peak tourist season. Eight hours drive. UTI. Grief. Exhaustion. No rooms. Oh, fuck, redux.

Ended up five of us had to share a small hotel room. Of the four women I’d be sharing with, one I had never met, and that’s where the asshole author comes in. Eight hour drive. UTI. Grief. Exhaustion. Five women in one little room. Fuck, fuck, and fuck.

He was an ass . . . but . . .  wasn't I, too?

He was an ass . . . but . . . wasn’t I, too?

I was barely holding onto my Assholeyness, when during the panel I was on the next day, the panel moderator introduced me thusly: “And now, former Playboy Playmate model Kat Magendie!” When I tell you the top of my head blew off, it did, for it was bad enough he’d earlier said to me something to this effect, but now on a panel?, in front of other writers and writer-hopefuls? Ka-BOOM! It seems in slow motion now, the way my head turned to him ooooh-soooo-slooowwwly, and it seems the words spewing from my mouth fling and slap him upside his head: “You fucking call me that again and I’m gonna Kick.Your.Fucking.Ass.” Yeah. I said that. On the panel. With wide eyes staring at me from the audience—although I’d like to think most of them thought, “Hey, he deserved it. You go girl.” Lawd.

The logistics of the crowded hotel room I won’t even relay. I will say that the next few days are a blur of me feeling ill, angry, pissy, crowded, annoyed, exhausted, sleepless, and generally hating everyone on the planet and then some.

And in this state is how the woman I’d never met—a woman who’d read my books and was looking forward to meeting the author behind the words—came to know The Asshole Author. (She was also in the audience of that panel that day, too. Yeah. Oops. Huhn. Lawd.)

bat shit crazy

bat shit crazy

While we can tell ourselves we must always be on our best behavior. While we tell ourselves that our face out to the world should be one of cheerful appreciation for our readers and always to be professional and courteous and kind, honestly, there are times when we just feel like shit, or bat-shit cray-cray. When we are assholes. When we want to bury our heads under the covers and shout: GO AWAY!

We’re human. We’re fallible.

After the conference was over, and once I was home and rested, I contacted the woman, and without giving up excuses (I hate excuses), I apologized to her for being an asshole. Would it have been better for me to keep a happy face and never let that Ass side of me to show? Yup. But was there any possible way that was going to happen during that time? Nope. Probably not.

Next time you meet an author, actor, singer, artist, why, anyone at all, really—whatever/whomever—and they are the Asshole from Hell, maybe, just maybe, give them a little bit of a break. Maybe, just maybe, they are having a hard time, are exhausted, are feeling stretched too thin, are feeling vulnerable and scared. Have nothing Photos, Video, few Words . . . "Granny Kat" in Oregonnothing not a danged ole thing left to give.

The words and worlds we authors create, the face we show on social networking, really IS us, but only a part of us. The part we try not to let you see is the fearful, anxiety-ridden, damaged, fallible, child-like innocence that’s been rattled, hopeful, rageful, Asshole, part of us. But oh, it’s there. Yeah. It’s there all right, and if the conditions are just right, you just may have met that Asshole instead of the person you so hoped to meet.

And for that, we give our most sincere apologies. Except for the Real Assholes—they don’t give a flying fuck one way or another.

002I think you know which one I am. Right? Right!

The Lightning Charmer coverThank you for your kind words and messages about The Lightning Charmer! I am forever grateful, and that, my friends, is the truth.

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